A Brief Respite
by skrewtkeeper
Summary: After being worried sick for weeks, Minerva finally returns unharmed. Now she must undo the damage her absence has inflicted. Hurt/Comfort. QuietMMAD. Picture by Michaelaw. Set late 1944.


**A/N:** _A few years ago, I had an idea to write an entire fan-fiction based on this one idea, but... I'm far too lazy. :P This is a scene I feel would be relevant to the plot of the story, however, and I wrote it recently at random, not knowing where it was going. I really like it. *hugs it* I'm certain you all can understand what Minerva was doing, hence the M rating. If not, I apologize for not being more upfront. It isn't very pleasant, as you can see by Albus's reaction. *shuts up and leaves* ;)_

It wasn't supposed to be this way… with his magic swirling about, with her hardly aware of what she was saying. It was only—it was just—

"It's been too long Minerva."

He does not say it kindly; his tone is bitter with the remains of a broken promise. She winces. She cringes. She wants to scream for all she's worth, and yet still, she knows it won't be enough. Perhaps it will _never_ be enough.

"I am well-aware," she spits in reply, the hardness in his voice egging her on. Couldn't he understand this was just as hard on her as it was on him? Granted, he had to face far worse—she wasn't in his position and was glad of it. But perhaps he could be a bit more understanding…the hell she had to endure… "But I could not leave just willy-nilly; it would arouse suspicion. You of all people should understand—"

He cuts her off as he whirls around to face her, his eyes fixed on hers and Minerva is not surprised to see the anger smoldering in the depths. A tendril of fear reaches out toward her and for reasons she cannot explain, she is _relieved_ that besides this grievance, he did not consider her an enemy.

"You could not—" his voice is quiet and Minerva shivered at the force he was withholding; it was making her hair stand on end. "You could not _leave_ when we _specifically_ decided upon your return? Did you not spare a thought for those besides yourself?"

His cold anger infuriates her. "You _try _being on my end for once Albus!" She shouts. "I had to make this as convincing as possible—there's no telling how much damage I could be undoing! While I'm away, the attacks _cease_, or has even that failed to escape your notice?! I'm following the very creed you swore you would never live by—it's all _for the greater good_," her words are venom as she shoots this at him—"'one sacrificed to save the _many_'. Weren't those your very words just two months ago? You never seemed to have a problem with this practice in theory, but as soon as someone is following the very same plan you fabricated—!"

"_Enough,"_ and the word tears through her enough that she pauses mid-rant. "This was not—" he takes deep, steadying breaths, his control still fast escaping, "—part—of said plan—"

Minerva glares at him. "What, you think me incapable? I seem to be well-suited to this position; I'm in an _unprecedented_ area for eavesdropping if nothing else—no one else can claim so far. Wasn't _this_ what you wanted?"

"I never intended—Goddammit Minerva!—_It was never supposed to be you!"_

He silenced her completely and she viewed the troubled, nearly broken man before her and ached. Once, perhaps a long time ago she loved him…but now the feelings were all rushing back to her, swallowing her frame entire. He did not like her doing this—as he would not like _any_ woman doing this, a nasty part of her mind retorted—but the fact as to _why_ he was so troubled, _why_ he appeared so weary, so broken, so lost… it was almost as if…

He was rambling now, looking at the floor, having become the bravest wizard of their time to the most frightened in the matter of three minutes. "The plan—never involved—it was supposed to be—I wanted it to be—"

"It would have tormented you either way," Minerva said quietly, almost without meaning to. Albus shook his head roughly, the essence of a madman swiftly upon him once more.

"No—this is _far_ worse."

She steps close to him, her hands trailing before her and she strongly clasps both of his arms. "Look Albus," she breathes quietly, words escaping her slowly as though he can comprehend only miniscule things. "I'm _here_. I'm alright. I'm _safe_."

"No…_No_," his voice breaks, and he meets her gaze. There are tears in his eyes and the shock of it makes her gasp. He gently runs his fingertips down her cheek.

"I promised I would never—"

He breaks off suddenly; whatever he had promised vaporizes between the two of them. Minerva is still staring into his eyes, her shock increasing when the tears begin to drip from his eyes.

"Albus!" Minerva cries mournfully, and fists her hands into his robes, holding him as he holds her as he continues to weep.

"Must I explain myself again?" Minerva asks, miserable because Albus is. She never was aware she would cause him this much pain by going behind his back and volunteering. Her stomach ached and she was suppressing tears of her own. "I'm _alright_, Albus—" she repeats, her voice beginning to tremble as his weeping increases. "There's nothing—God, _Albus_!—Stop it! Just stop!"

"You can't possibly be alright," he whispers finally, his tears overwhelming the power of his voice. Minerva could feel her shoulder becoming drenched with tears, but didn't care.

"What do you mean?" she asks as quietly, the pain still evident in her voice as she begins to rub the broad back she could not see, pressing herself closer to him so she could reach him better. "I'm sorry," she breathes as she continues to stroke him. "I was late, I know. I should have informed—"

"No," Albus groans—under her ministrations or her answer she could not tell— "It would not have been wise… It would have been dangerous, tantamount to suicide."

Minerva frowned, biting her lip. "You are so _tense_," she exclaims with concern. "And I can't reach you…"

She twists out of his grasp, and though she's already exhausted, manages to conjure a comfortable chintz chair he would have selected out of thin air. She orders him to sit on it and when he finally relents, she takes her place behind his back again and begins to skillfully unknot the kinks held captive there.

Albus does not speak again and allows her to do this, allows her to shower attention on him in this way. At one point, he inhales sharply and Minerva pauses, but the second she continues again, he seems to melt in his chair—all the tension of before gone.

When she's finally through, Minerva wipes her hands on her skirts and starts to leave. She's shocked again by Albus's hand shooting out and clasping around her wrist. _"Stay,"_ he rumbles deeply. Her eyes widen.

Instantly realizing how that must have appeared, he clarifies, "I'd just—I would like you to sleep here tonight. I can provide comfortable arrangements. It is complicated in a situation with limited space like this, but I believe it can be done. I just—" he pauses and steels himself, almost reluctant to say whatever else was weighing on his mind. "—I thought you were never coming back. I was afraid something had happened, that perhaps he had been especially cruel…that someone else had—"

"It's no picnic," Minerva says with much disgust, wrinkling her nose, "but there are worse things. He only—"

Albus shakes his head and scrunches his eyes shut, shuddering. "Please spare me," he murmurs brokenly, his distress quite evident.

Minerva places her hand on his shoulder, drawing it down slowly until it reaches his hand. "It's only for himself, Albus. It's never for me." His tightened eyes seem to relax a little. "And if I spare some poor girl the same fate—who _will_ be led to believe that only lust is what a proper man cares about—"

"I know, I know," he holds his other hand up, shushing her. "I hate that he has chosen you, but I am glad of it for the reasons you have shared with me. _Thank you_," and as he says it, the invisible weight that had been on his shoulders seems to lift an inch.


End file.
